Escape From Reality
by Delicious Mud Pie
Summary: Brock gets a taste of Murphy's Law and hence becomes seriously depressed. DUMBEST FIC EVER


Escape from Reality  
  


He held his hand to his nose as it bled, surprised that she would have taken a swing at him. His mind was clouded with thoughts and clouded with shock as he gaped at the woman who stood before him. She was shaking angrily, and fist actually bled from having clocked him so hard.  
  
Take that you asshole! she growled.  
  
But he continued to gape, his thoughts ebbing away from coherency as the woman's cold, green gaze branded a hole into his soul.  
  
What are you staring at? she shouted. Go away before I do it again!  
  
He tried to blink back the tears which assaulted him at this point. But he couldn't take his eyes away. Not because he was enthralled with his assailant, but because he couldn't understand what he did to deserve such pain. His nose was broken, which was something to make any man weep, but the pain of the thought behind the punch was like a monster truck had throttled his body.  
  
Why did you do that? he asked softly, the moisture from his eyes condensing and dropping down his cheeks steadily.   
  
Because you're a pig! she shouted.  
  
Footsteps from behind him pounded on the pavement angrily. He looked behind him at the people who had run up to see what was the matter, and they stared at him blankly.  
  
the female blinked, you need to get to a doctor! How did that happen?  
  
He looked at the girl who had punched him and frowned. He didn't want a fight to break out, so he lied. Nothing happened.  
  
The girl didn't believe it, and apparently his assailant wouldn't relent.  
  
I'll tell you what happened, she spat, he was harassing me!  
  
His friend's lips twisted into a sardonic smile, but it was meant to sting the other girl as it showed her disbelief.  
  
she laughed. Harass you? He wouldn't harass anyone!  
  
Oh yeah, the assailant rolled her eyes, well, I'm sick of guys just treating me like meat. He just came up to me and started telling me that I was beautiful and that he was in love with me and all this shit. Yeah right.  
  
The other girl boggled. Um, that's not harassment. I think I'm going to have to hurt you now for hurting my friend!  
  
The male who had come with the girl also decided to speak at that point. So this is how you take a compliment? God, what kind of a bitch ass nut-cruncher are you?  
  
You guys, Brock bit his lip as he continued trying to stop the bleeding from his nose. Let's just leave.  
  
Not a chance in hell! Misty spat, stepping up to her newfound adversary. No one is just going to break your nose and get away with it!  
  
Ash agreed, she deserves an ass-kicking. Sorry Brocko, but I have to agree with Misty on this one.  
  
The girl Misty was confronting was at least three years older than her, maybe even older than Brock. She was a good deal taller, and if any bets were to be passed around, only a few people on earth would have betted on Misty. But that's because they'd seen her temper.  
  
The older girl swung for Misty, apparently not shy to deal blows.  
  
Misty laughed, ducking under the girl's fist. Misty then punched her adversary in the stomach in turn.  
  
The girl staggered back, clutching her abdomen. She had the wind knocked out of her, and apparently when confronted with a better fighter, or someone who would fight back, she was not ashamed to turn tail and run.  
  
What a damn bitch, Misty shook her head, blowing on her fist as if it were a smoking gun. And a chicken one at that!  
  
Ash shook his head. She should have to pay for your hospital bill.  
  
Brock sighed as he could now concentrate on the pain. A flood of tears overtook him as they walked toward the hospital.  
  
It was a shame that they actually had to wait for a couple of hours in the waiting room before being taken. A triage nurse gave Brock a cold pack for the bleeding, but apparently there were even bigger emergencies afoot than his sickeningly painful wound. Brock had to visit the bathroom and throw up at least twice because of it, and the ice pack mingling with the blood just heightened his discomfort. He was just nearing another desire to throw up when he was finally admitted into the doctor's office.  
  
Though it was another uncomfortable period of waiting while he sat on the cot, nothing between him and the multitude of other waiting emergency room patients than a curtain. He felt a little cold an exposed, and the ice in his bag was begining to melt. Ash and Misty chatted quietly, but Brock was too dazed to join in on their conversation.  
  
When the doctor finally came, he took about two seconds to assess that it was indeed a break. Of course, it would have to be x-rayed in any case, but at least he cleaned it up and gave it a preliminary brace.   
  
It was evening by the time everything was done at the hospital, and Misty ranted about how it was a crime to torture sick and injured people with hell like that. Ash agreed too, especially since his stomach had been bitching at him the whole time they were sitting there. He got some chips out of a vending machine, but it just wasn't enough.  
  
They did go out to eat since Misty declared that Brock should not have to cook, and though he felt bad for being the slightest bit ungrateful, Brock just agreed by using as few words as he probably possibly could.  
  
They also stayed that night in a hotel, and though Brock was willing to take the couch, both Ash and Misty insisted that he sleep in a bed.  
  
Brock was glad that they were being so nice to him, but he was also restless. He woke up at two a.m. in a cold sweat after having dreams about being slapped and rejected numerous times, and he decided that he needed to take a walk.  
  
The motel faced the street, and the sidewalk was blissfully chilling against his bare feet as he plodded down the sidewalk in search of some sort of release from his conflicts. Whether it be a refreshing look at the stars or a chat with a friendly stranger, he desired something that he couldn't place a name on.   
  
The street was very empty seeing as it was an ungodly hour in the morning, and Brock's eyes began to burn again as sleepiness settled upon his aching soul. His head throbbed from the night's chill and sleep sounded beautiful to him as he dreamed of his bed.  
  
He was about to turn around and head back when he caught sight of a gang of teenagers crowded around something in an alleyway. Being careless with his life, he stepped over to them in curiosity. His pajamas whipped around his feet in the breeze, and he looked strange and rather tall when placed next to the group of darkly-dressed adolescents.  
  
What do you want? one of them asked, his voice crackling as he remained unsure of his dominance. We're not doing nothing.  
  
Brock held up his hands in a peacemaking gesture. I won't tell on you guys for doing whatever you're doing.  
  
What are you doing walking around in your pajamas? another asked. A girl with short blonde hair and clouded blue eyes. She was rather short and looked unearthly thin. The obvious lack of oral hygienic care that she sported made it obvious that she used meth.  
  
I just couldn't sleep, is all, he sighed. I'll leave you guys alone now.  
  
the other guy sneered, and go tell on us? I don't think so.  
  
Brock rolled his eyes. Geez. How am I gonna convince you guys that I don't care what you're doing? I just wanna go to bed.  
  
The boy narrowed his eyes and held out a bottle. Here. Drink some. Then we'll believe you. But you look like to much of a little pretty bitch to do this shit.  
  
Brock rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle, an act that was followed by a chorus of giggles from the disbelieving teenagers which surrounded him. He took a quick swig and was repulsed by the taste, and handed it back to the boy, wincing as if he'd just taken a bite from a lemon.  
  
Ya happy? he shook his head, trying to expunge the taste from his mouth.  
  
the boy laughed, pulling out a switchblade. That wasn't enough. Drink more.  
  
Brock's eyes widened as he eyed the knife. You drink it first, he stammered. What if it kills me or something?  
  
I'll kill ya if you don't, the boy laughed, and was echoed by his gang.  
  
I might as well put up a fight instead of being poisoned, Brock reasoned.  
  
the kid narrowed his eyes again and took a long swig of the drink. He was already buzzed, and as some of it dripped from the corners of his mouth, it was obvious he wasn't faking the swig. Your turn, he smiled, handing the bottle back to Brock and holding his blade up to Brock's chest.  
  
Brock began to sweat nervously, and he tried to force the putrid tasting substance down his throat. He tried to stop after every sip, but the boy forcefully insisted that he continue. Brock had swallowed about two glasses worth of it before he turned around and blanched, unable to drink any more.  
  
I guess that's good enough, the teenager laughed, once again met with the choir. Now get the fuck out of here. Dumbass.  
  
Brock breathed in deeply and turned back towards the hotel. He could hardly walk and his head pounded in his intoxication. He felt as if the world was going to spin off its axis, and that he wouldn't even recognize the motel if he _did_ find it. Miraculously he found his way back, and also found his way back into his bed.  
  
He bled with a sickly sweat as he lye in his bed, dizziness sweeping him into trains of meaningless thought. He just should have fought back. Would the stupid kid really have thrown the knife? Why did he go and talk to them anyway?  
  
His eyes were glued open, and he stared at the wall as he tried to stave off how sick to his stomach he was feeling. He almost cried out in pain when the room was suddenly flooded with light.  
  
Someone shouted into his room in a hissing whisper.   
  
Brock muttered, still transfixed.  
  
You were muttering something, she frowned, then walked over to his bed. Loudly. Woke me up. And I know you went outside. Just what were you doing?  
  
Misty walked over to him and put a hand to his cheek. God, you're all flushed warm. Are you sick? We're next to the hospital, we can go back--  
  
Brock coughed. Not sick just very sick tired.  
  
Misty's face contorted into confusion as she listened to Brock's slurred speech, and she put her cheek to his forehead to feel for a fever. Instead she smelled whatever strange alcohol he had ingested.  
  
Why did you lie? she gritted her teeth. How did you go out and drink?  
  
Wasn't my fault, he muttered, they made me so wouldn't tell them on.  
  
Oh yeah, Misty growled, someone _made_ you drink. Damnit, if you have a problem, tell me about it! Don't go out and get drunk!  
  
Brock sat up woozily, tired of being yelled at. I'm not lying damnit! Leave me alone so I can sleep!  
  
Misty shook her head. See? When people drink they get bad tempers!  
  
Then waz your excuse bitch? Brock shook his head.  
  
Misty growled in anger. You know what? The only reason I'm not slapping your head off is because your nose is already broken! Maybe you _were_ harassing that girl! What's wrong with you, anyway?  
  
Just go AWAY! Brock fumed, leave me alone!  
  
Misty shouted. But nobody wants someone who drinks around!  
  
I told you! Brock began shouting very loudly, it wasn't my fault!  
  
Be quiet or they'll kick us out! Misty shouted just as loudly.  
  
At this time Ash was obviously awake, and wandered into the room.  
  
What the hell is going on here? he grumbled. God, do you guys want the neighbors to come and kick our asses?  
  
Misty turned to Ash, ready to snitch. Brock here went out drinking at two in the morning.  
  
Ash looked at Brock, but not in anger. Awww, Brock, I didn't know you were _that_ upset about what happened earlier. Now you'll have a broken nose _and_ a hangover.  
  
Brock sighed. I tole you both. I didn't aught go out drinking. I found some kids that were and they made me drink so I wouldn't tell what they were doin'. He had a knife and stuff.  
  
Misty rolled their eyes. Sooo, why don't you call the cops on them now?  
  
Brock fumed, because their plan worked see the cops'll think I was one of them too geez.  
  
Ash sighed. Just let him get back to sleep. We'll talk to him about it in the morning.  
  
Misty sighed, then looked up at Brock where he sat. She seemed more than a little distraught, but she got over it and ducked her head and left.  
  
Brock put his hands in his head and breathed in deeply for a moment, trying to breathe the day's anguish away. He had to stagger up and turn off the light since Misty had forgotten, and he stumbled on his bed and fell down painfully when he tried to go back to it. His nose hit the mattress, and though it was a soft fall, it still hurt like hell.  
  
Brock sat for a moment, his head above the edge of his bed, on his knees as he had fallen. He didn't have the desire to get up, and a sob welled from his throat as his nose throbbed and the room, dark as it was, still spun around him like mad.  
  
It was probably a good half hour before he crawled into bed successfully, for he took quite a while to finish expunging his despair.  
  
Sleep came fairly easy because he was so tired, and his drunkenness blocked the coherent nightmares which had plagued him in the first place. All he could truly think about was the fact that he was not looking forward to morning.  
  
Night slipped quickly into day, but Brock wasn't the first to wake as he normally was. In fact, Ash had to try and drudge his carcass out of bed at ten.   
  
Get up, Brock, Ash grumbled, you'll miss breakfast if you don't get up right now.  
  
I really don't want to eat anything, Brock moaned as his head felt as if it was being pounded on furiously with a lead mallet.   
  
Come on, Ash sympathized, you gotta eat before we take off today.  
  
I don't want to go anywhere, Brock choked, I just want to sleep.  
  
Ash retorted brightly. We have a long way to go today!  
  
Brock groaned once again and tried to sit up. His arms even ached as he pulled his body up from where it was smashed into the mattress. His palms supported his weight as he swung his legs over and stepped out of bed. He felt weird, and strangely stuffy as he tried to get over his forced drunkenness.  
  
I don't want to see Misty, he sighed. She hates me now.  
  
Ash chortled, we talked about it and she'll all right. Just come on Brock.  
  
Brock winced as he walked into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and showered and changed in slow motion. He still looked like hell in a hand basket when he was done, as his eyes were filmed over with red and pink. His face paled to match the dun peach of his pajamas, and his expression was that which is usually seen when someone has a fever.  
  
Ash pouted. You look like something the cat dragged in. Maybe breakfast will make you feel better.  
  
They walked down to the tiny restaurant that the hotel had and sat in a booth. Misty was waiting for them.  
  
I'm starving! she bit her lip as she rummaged through the menu. Brock could tell that she was purposely avoiding him, both looking at him and talking to him. What are you having, Ash?  
  
Ash shrugged.   
  
Sounds good, Misty joked, still buried in the menu.  
  
Brock tried to burn a hole through the menu with his stare. He was begining to feel mad that Misty wouldn't believe him that he hadn't purposely gotten drunk.  
  
The waiter came around, and they all ordered, but Brock resumed giving the evil eye to Misty after he left.  
  
They were all silent, and Misty didn't show any signs of being uncomfortable. She felt mad at Brock as well, and she wouldn't be phased by him.  
  
Brock broke the silence, I wasn't lying!  
  
Misty ignored him, and began talking to Ash. You know, I hear the gym in the next city is pretty tough, think you can handle it?  
  
Ash rolled his eyes.   
  
Fine, don't answer me, Misty muttered, then began flicking straw wrappers around the table. Togepi laughed as one hit Brock on the forehead.  
  
You won't talk to me but you'll flick straw wrappers at me? Brock fumed. Real mature, Misty!  
  
Misty's eyes widened. Going out and getting drunk--now there's immature!  
  
Brock frowned, unable to condense his anger into a fight as he could the night before while inebriated. Why won't you believe me? he asked sadly.  
  
Because it's an unbelievable story, Misty shrugged. If there were teenagers drinking, they'd probably want to keep all their booze. Why would they give any to you?  
  
Brock grabbed his napkin and began ripping at it. I don't know why, they just did, okay? Please, don't do this to me Misty, not now. I can't take it.  
  
Brock looked up at Misty somberly, his eyes welling with moisture. Misty sighed and grabbed one of his hands.  
  
Brock flushed at this gesture, but had to use the other quickly to wipe an escaped tear away.  
  
Okay, I'll believe you, Misty said softly. It just wouldn't be like you to do such a thing anyway. I was just--concerned. Is all. I don't show it well.  
  
Brock sighed with relief. Thank you, Misty.  
  
Brock felt a little jumpy in the room. It was so loud and so bright. He was all but ecstatic to leave, even if it did mean he's have to be walking all day.  
  
Just one quick stop at the pokémon center and we're on our way, Ash yawned as they walked out the door. Man, that'll be an hour of boredom.  
  
Brock raised an eyebrow. Why didn't you do it before waking me up?  
  
Ash laughed. You think I'd actually wake up before you with no scent of food to get my ass out of bed? Fat chance. Misty had to kick me awake to go and wake you up.  
  
Brock laughed softly, and they all lopped down the street towards the pokémon center. He got a couple of stares because of his bandaged nose, but it was to be expected. The large bruises which had formed under his eyes as well were probably half the reason. He'd never really broken anything before, and it was just as strange to him as it was to the passersby.  
  
The pokémon center was strangely empty. Probably because it was after the morning rush of travelers.  
  
Ash brought his pokéballs to the counter.  
  
Good morning! Nurse Joy said cheerily. Do you want me to heal your pokémon?  
  
You read me like a book, Ash smiled back.  
  
Brock stood in back of him in line, and a lump formed in his throat as he stepped up to the counter.  
  
_Don't act like a dumbass, Brock_, he told himself, gritting his teeth. He put his pokéballs on the counter, and looked up at Joy thoughtfully.   
  
Would you like me to heal your pokémon? she asked cheerily.  
  
Sure would, Brock replied dreamily. And if you have time you could heal my heart too.  
  
Joy laughed. Sorry kid, but I'm married. And I think that that'd be illegal anyway.  
  
Brock sighed. The story of my life.  
  
Brock walked over and sat in the chairs to wait as Misty also gave Joy her pokémon. It shouldn't have taken too long because there were only three people waiting.  
  
Misty and Ash joined him and took a seat. They both were pretty bright eyed, and both were arguing about something insubstantial in no time. Brock stared into space, bored, until one of Joy's friends walked in and began to talk to her in whispers.  
  
Brock guessed that they didn't think he could hear their conversation over Misty and Ash's, probably since he was staring down at the floor as well. However, their discourse wasn't well disguised, whispered as it was, and he could hear every word of it.  
  
So, how's your day been going J? the girl who walked in asked.  
  
Joy giggled. That kid over there was all flirting with me. Don't look!  
  
Too late, the girl whispered. Egad, he looks like he got beat with the ugly stick. What's up with his nose?  
  
It's just broken, I think, Joy shrugged. But that's not what was funny about it. He has to be like sixteen or something. I told him I was married.  
  
The other girl giggled quietly as well. Married? Heh heh. That's even better than when I tell annoying guys that I'm a lesbian.  
  
Brock shook his head and stopped listening to whatever they continued talking about. He had heard just about as much as he could take.  
  
As soon as the pokémon were finished, Brock avoided all eye contact with Nurse Joy. He wondered if she even noticed that he was avoiding her. He said nothing when all was done, and strode out of the center in all haste.  
  
Misty and Ash didn't quite understand his rush, and they lolligated a little as people do, conversing as they left the building.  
  
They began their trek to the next city promptly. The terrain was gorgeous as it seemed to pass by on its own volition. Trees lined the dusty yet well-maintained road, and the sun sifted through the leaves onto the road to create natural fractoral patterns. Any city slicker would have relished at such a scene of unspoiled nature, but Brock was numb to the world, and he trailed behind Ash and Misty the whole trek until nightfall.  
  
He remained silent as they set up camp, and set out his sleeping bag unusually far away from theirs. A small, impotent fire struggled to rage inbetween all of their sleeping spaces, and as it was early, Ash and Misty conversed normally. Brock found it easy to let their discourse traverse over his head as he closed his eyes and tried to envelop himself in the comforting abyss and escape of sleep. In fact, ignoring them was so easy that Misty had to call his name three times before he filtered back into consciousness enough to respond.  
  
he muttered, not bothering to lift his head from his pillow.  
  
Misty crawled over next to his bag, leaning over him as he lye in pretend slumber. She watched his chest rise and fall for a moment through his gentle yet troubled breathing, and she coughed gently to get his attention again.  
  
His eyes opened slowly, and he looked at the girl who stood over him. She appeared to have genuine concern in her eyes, and her head was tilted a little as she examined his sorry state.  
  
Brock, don't be sad because of me, I told you that I believe you now, she whispered. You know I have a bad temper, I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. Is that why you're so upset, Brock? Or is it because of what happened with that girl?  
  
Brock breathed in heavily, and he put his head back down as he tried to think of a way to respond to what she had said. He put a hand to his cheek and opened his mouth meekly.  
  
Do you think I'm ugly, Misty? he whispered, almost inaudibly.  
  
Misty's eyes widened at the question, and she answered quickly as not to incite any doubt that she spoke the truth.  
  
Of course not, Brock! she gesticulated largely as she tried to dispel this thought from his mind. You're not ugly! Whatever gave you that idea?  
  
Nurse Joy, Brock frowned. I heard her talking to her friend. They think I look like I got beaten with the ugly stick.  
  
Misty sighed. You probably heard them wrong--I don't see why anyone would say such a thing.  
  
Maybe because it's true, Brock snorted, then closed his eyes again as if to sleep.  
  
But she's married! Misty argued loudly.  
  
That was just a lie, Brock said despairingly, to make me go away. They thought I was just really ugly.  
  
Misty frowned. They've just never seen you without your broken nose, is all. That wasn't very nice. You look hurt, not ugly.  
  
Brock didn't respond. He sniffed a little and continued to try and sleep.  
  
Misty grumbled softly as she looked to the ground. She then sighed and crawled back into her sleeping bag.   
  
He'll be all right, Ash muttered, almost reading Misty's mind. Nurse Joy is just too damn old for him anyway. He'll be his old self tomorrow, probably.  
  
But Ash's prediction couldn't have been farther from the truth. Brock remained dejected as they went to the next town. Ash predictably won another badge, and Brock walked behind both he and Misty, not joining in on their conversations or even acknowledging their presence. Both Ash and Misty almost died at one point when, after getting his badge, they had to go to a pokémon center and Brock completely ignored Nurse Joy.  
  
Week upon week had passed, and the bruises beneath Brock's eyes healed, as did his nose. They were staying at another motel the night his bandages were permanently removed.  
  
Motels had to have been a bad omen. They were staying at the motel partially because they were in town, and partially because they wanted to celebrate Brock's free nose. However, Brock wasn't in a mood for celebration. He'd been in a total emotional stalemate for what seemed to be an eternity.   
  
Brock had insisted on sleeping on the couch. Ash and Misty only gave in because the small argument was the most they'd been able to get out of Brock in a long time. The fact that he was actually half-way adamant about something convinced them enough.  
  
As soon as Brock was alone, however, he sat up from where he lye and stood to pace the room. He walked agitatedly, and he stopped and walked into the bathroom at the prophetic hour of two a.m, though he wasn't aware of it. He flipped on the light and stared into the mirror, reflecting in more ways than one.  
  
Brock looked at his thin frame disgustedly. He was just in pajama bottoms for the night, and it pained him that he had to look at his bare top. He placed something on the counter, and turned the water faucet on. He was so thin--maybe girls would have liked him if he worked out more, or had a build like a real man.  
  
Brock popped the lid off of the orange container that he placed on the counter and put a pill in his mouth. He cupped his hands under the running water to form a cup, and thus swallowed the pill.  
  
Brock looked into the mirror again, this time paying attention to his hair. He'd liked it spiked and unruly, but maybe girls thought it was old and dorky. Maybe if he'd cut it differently, he would have had a better chance with them.  
  
Brock dropped another pill from the bottle into his hand and placed it to his lips. He closed his eyes as he swallowed it this time. He had made sure that plenty of his painkillers were left over, just in case he deemed this necessary.  
  
He looked into the mirror again, this time focusing on his face. But his face was replaced with that of Misty's on the mirror, and he choked on a sob as he stared into the fantasy he projected in front of him. He held his breath and ran his fingers from one of her temples to her lips, wishing that she were real. He then closed his eyes and leaned toward the mirror, kissing the fantasy lips, the lips he'd always imagined to feel and taste like divinity in its essence.   
  
Tears cascaded down Brock's face as he pulled away from the imaginary kiss. He had a fleeting thought that it would be the only kiss he'd ever receive.  
  
he thought aloud, if I was better looking, and didn't flirt with every girl I met, she would have liked me.  
  
Brock trembled as he shook another capsule into his outstretched palm. He was about to press it to his lips when a pair of warm arms encircled his waist.  
  
What are you doing here? Brock whispered, his face falling in fear.  
  
I don't know why you would ask yourself such a thing, Misty said, ignoring the latter question, because I do like you, Brock.  
  
Brock gulped, then turned around to face her. Even with the way I've been acting?  
  
Misty sighed, burying her face into his chest. I feel so bad. You shouldn't feel like this, Brock. You've been so different lately. Nothing like the sweet, gentle, caring Brock that I traveled with about a month ago.  
  
Brock gulped, then looked down at Misty. She pressed into him more tightly.   
  
I hope you didn't take too many of those pills, she choked.  
  
Brock delicately responded, only two. Only as many as I should take anyway.  
  
Misty looked up at him, her eyes troubled. Don't lie to me, Brock. If you died, I don't know what I would do--  
  
Blood rushed to Brock's head as moisture tumbled from Misty's eyes onto his bare chest. He began to breathe more quickly, and he put his hands on her back. He closed his eyes and looked up, wondering if the sky was going to crash down onto him at any moment. Before coming into the bathroom he had desired to wash up upon the shores of hell's oceans, believing that nothing could bring him back from the hell he was suffering on earth.   
  
Brock began to run his hand through Misty's hair as it played around her shoulders. She looked more feminine and delicate with her hair down, and she was certainly acting like it. He almost ached as her warm skin nuzzled against him. He could hardly believe how he'd lived with the loneliness which filled his soul, how every day could pass as he spent his waking moments with the one that he loved most of all, but unable to take her into his arms.  
  
Misty put her hands on his shoulders and looked up into his face. Brock bit his lower lip as she just stared empathetically. He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her closer to him. His breathing was becoming shorter, and his eyes began to water as they just stood their in the silence and in the glow of the bathroom light.  
  
Misty moved her hands up to Brock's neck and brought him closer to her face. She pressed his lips to his, giving him a gentle kiss, then pulled away, staring once again.  
  
Why were you going to do this? she asked, referring to the bottle of pills.  
  
Brock looked away from her for a moment, but still held her just as tightly. he confessed, I'm just very, very lonely.  
  
  
****Author's note: Oh yeah, flame me big, I wanna do a flame response forum. But I won't put it in the pokémon category cause that would be dumb.


End file.
